Anny Cook's Blog, page 42

Summer's Gone

Every year we reach this stage when inevitability strikes and we realize summer is over. Oh, there might be a last hurrah of a few stolen days, but SUMMER is finished. How do we know?

Some say it's when they pack away the shorts and tee-shirts. At my house I wear them all year round--at least indoors. So that's not a reliable sign for me.

Others say summer is over when the kids go back to school. I have no children that age. And anyway, some schools start in August (and surely, that's still summer!) There are even school districts that go all year long.

Then there are the adherents who say summer is over when the leaves start to change. Or when a certain day on the calendar rolls around. Or when the ice cream stand closes.

I think for me, it's when the temps are below fifty when I wake up in the morning. I don't get up at the crack of dawn anymore. So if the temperature is below fifty when I finally roll out of bed, then summer is definitely over. That means I have to search out a jacket to wear to the pool over my bathing suit. And there's something just wrong about the combination of jackets and swim suits. That's when summer is finally, inevitably over.

Why, before we know it, I'll have to break out my mammoth Crocs to keep my feet warm...

anny

Wednesday Ponders

Things I wonder about:

Why does time pass so much faster as we age? Shouldn't it go slower when your time is running out? Back when I was in my teens it seemed like the days took forever.

Why do foods that are bad for you taste better than foods that are good for you? Wouldn't we all do better if the bad foods tasted bad?

Been watching all these end-of-the-world trailers for new TV shows. So...if there's no 'power' (electricity), how do those folks end up with pristine clothes? And where are they getting water? (No power, no water pumps.) And how do they find out about what's going on in the outer world? How do they know it's not just their local area? And another thing...why are all these shows set in the country? An urban scenario would probably scare the crap out of everyone...

How far could most folks walk if they had to escape from a catastrophic event?

Am I the only one to think it's strange that so many characters in British TV shows own horses? I thought horses were expensive to feed/care for/own. Is it cheaper in the UK to own a horse?

Bright hair colors seem to be all the rage in the author set. So does pink or purple hair help sell books? Or is another color better? How often does it have to be touched up?

Would life on this planet be different if no one wore pants? What if everyone wore skirts/kilts/robes? Would our cultures have evolved differently? What if fashion dictated all men had to wear corsets?

Who do you suppose invented the first comb? And why?

And what person looked at a crab or shrimp and thought, 'that looks like something good to eat?'

Who was the fashion forward idiot who invented high heeled shoes? Why?

That's it for today...

anny

I Believe

I believe in...

Peace on Earth. Some days it's harder to keep the faith than others, but I still believe.

Family. The people in our families are not necessarily biological. As a matter of fact, they're usually members through the heart link--friends so close they'll always be family.

Possibilities. No matter what comes down the pike, there are always possibilities. When we cease to open our minds and hearts to the possibilities around us, life stops.

Dreams. Dreams are possibilities waiting to be seized. Not all dreams come true. But they're out there, waiting.

Imagination. There is no creativity without imagination. This is the 'what if' of life. Some folks share their imagination through words and music and art. Others never do because of fear...fear that others will not appreciate what they have to offer. I choose to share.

Sex after sixty. When I was eighteen and newly married, the hunk and I went to visit my grandparents. Naturally, the hunk was more interested in dragging me off to the bedroom than visiting with the elders. I was mortally embarrassed. My grandmother told me I should be proud--not embarrassed. After all, wasn't that one of the main reasons we got married? Then she chuckled and shared a secret with me--she and Grandpa had sex as often as they could. Now I'm in my sixties. And there are a lot of hours in a day...

anny

Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Friday the 13th. A double gift if you believe in luck as Friday is considered lucky in many cultures and thirteen is seen as a lucky number in several others. So you might say Friday the 13th is a two-fer.

The negative connotations attached to this day are of recent onset--in effect, they're 'modern'. So that's a puzzle, isn't it? In an era mostly past superstitious beliefs, there are still folks who fear Friday the 13th. Friggatriskaidekaphobia (that's what they call fear of Friday the 13th).

Why would anyone fear a day that randomly arrives?

Perhaps...as humans we need SOMETHING to blame for all the bad things that happen. And if that's the case, then Friday the 13th is perfect. It's random. It's not anyone's fault. You can see it coming--and therefore it isn't a surprise. And it's of short duration and soon over. Actually, none of those are bad things, are they?

Viva Friday the 13th!

Romance

Ah, romance. Many women dream of it. Men scorn the very idea of reading about it. Kids gag at the thought of it. But what exactly is it?

If you stopped the next twenty people--or even a hundred--on the street and asked them to define romance, the answers would number as many as the participants. Everyone has a hazy idea of what romance is (or isn't), but there doesn't seem to be an agreed upon definition.

Is it kissing? Ewwww, say the little kids. Is it sex? A relationship? Lighted candles, flowers and perfume? How do we know romance when we find it?

And where do we go in search of it? Do we find it in a bar? Or church? Or in the midst of war and chaos? How do we know for sure we've found true romance instead of a one night stand?

Is longevity the test? What about the second-time-arounds?

I think we spend so much time and effort dreaming about romance that we miss the real thing. Maybe we even lose out on our best opportunity because we're chasing attractiveness or wealth or sex. Romance touches the heart. All that other stuff is fluffy icing on the cake.

Without love, there is no romance. It's just sugar and fat...and maybe a little food coloring and artificial flavor.

Tears and Laughter

I wrote this post three years ago, but it seems to me to still be relevant. Today my daughter turns 40. That's normally a birthday associated with all sorts of celebrations and teasing. Grief has its place. But so does joy and laughter.~~Anny

Many, many words will be written today commemorating the events of nine years ago. And that is as it should be. The house hunk was actually working in New York City that day only a few blocks from the towers. He didn't get home for three days.

The village we lived in was a bedroom community where many of the firemen and policemen that died that day had homes. We had many orphans in our village from 9/11.

But other things did happen on September 11th, though the events of that day overshadow them and will continue to do so for many years. Thirty seven years ago today, my daughter was born. In 2001 she was supposed to be on an airplane flying into Newark Airport so she could be home for her birthday. Thankfully, her flight was scheduled later in the day so she was safely on the ground when all hell broke loose.

Over the years, her birthday--and those of all the others born this day--somehow get lost in the remembrances for those who died. We talked about this phenomenon one time. She said, "You're probably one of the few who truly understands what it's like." And now I imagine you, the reader wonder why that would be.

The day I turned fourteen, John F. Kennedy was shot. It was as great a shock to the country back then as 9/11 was to the country some forty years later. Every year there were solemn ceremonies and news coverage. And it seemed somehow disrespectful to celebrate something so mundane as a birthday.

Yet--I say yet! Life does go on. Others among us pass away. Lovers dare to marry. New babies are born. And the little celebrations we observe to mark our lives are just as important as the big ones. Soon--within days or a week or two--my daughter will give birth to another precious son. For him, 9/11 will be ancient history, much as Kennedy's assassination is ancient history to most of our current population.

On this day of remembrance let us also observe the celebrations of life as well as death.

Happy Birthday, Julie! May you have a wonderful day. May you live long and celebrate many more. I love you.

Mom

Monday Reprise--Burnt Oatmeal

Originally published 2/27/08.

Yesterday morning I burned the oatmeal. This is not a new occurrence. Rather it is the norm. My friend Jane and the house hunk don't even find it a subject worth discussing as I always burn the oatmeal. You might ask why make oatmeal if you always burn it? Because I need to eat oatmeal. There's always enough unburned oatmeal to satisfy my needs.

Why does it burn? Mostly because I have too many things going on at one time. I set the timer and then immerse my concentration on some other project to the extent that I don't hear the timer. It burns. I scrape off the top layer and put the pot in the sink to soak. And move on.

Life is pretty full of burnt oatmeal. All those wrong turns and bad choices we make in life have consequences. How we handle the inevitable consequences determines what our life is like. We can wail and gnash our teeth and cry over our burnt oatmeal. We can beat ourselves up or blame some one else for calling us on the phone while our oatmeal was cooking. But the truth is that none of those things really address the fact that we still have burnt oatmeal.

Or we can salvage what we can, put the pan to soak, and move on. There will likely be a lot of pans of burnt oatmeal in our lives. If I waste time obsessing about the burnt oatmeal, that's time I've lost forever. Time I could have put to more constructive use. Oh yeah, and while I'm moaning and groaning the salvaged oatmeal is getting cold. Who wants to eat cold oatmeal?

There are things I can do to "pretty up" my oatmeal. I can add nuts, raisens, peanut butter, brown sugar, nutella, or cream. All of those make the oatmeal more palatable. And unless I tell someone, they'll never know that I burned the oatmeal. See? Life is what you make it--even burnt oatmeal.

Anny

Saturday Snippet

While the snow continued to fall, he kept a wary eye on the raiders, collecting as much information from his observations as possible. Each ship carried around eighty men, yielding an approximate total well over a thousand men. With the exception of two scouting patrols of eight men each, the rest remained on the beach. From that, he deduced they were most probably unaware of a human presence on the island. One patrol turned toward the far end of the island, well away from the caves where the women were hiding. The other group headed directly across the plateau in a line that would bring them close to the beach where the ship wrecked earlier that morning. That group passed very near to where he lay hidden. He held his breath as they trod past. With his recent knowledge of the trees and standing stones in the immediate area, he was able to calculate an approximate comparison and arrive at a height estimate. Ten feet. They were true giants with corresponding strengths and abilities. Shadow wondered how they coped with the nasty weather, dressed only in their skimpy fur cloaks, rough knee length tunics and thigh high boots. Wild unkempt dark hair streamed down their backs and when one man laughed heartily at something another had said, Shadow caught a glimpse of a startling double array of pointed teeth. After the two patrols returned and gave every appearance of settling in, he used his scope to satisfy his remaining questions about the raiders. The gray light of day was waning rapidly, but in the flaring glow of the fires he focused on one man’s face, absently watching the raider vigorously gnawing on an animal’s leg bone. At least he hoped it was an animal. Shadow’s stomach cramped as he recalled Ani’s report of them being cannibals. He should have been put off by the two rows of crooked teeth the man displayed as he tore another hunk of meat from the bone, but hunger could gloss over many unpleasantries. Besides, the raiders’ eating habits weren’t Shadow’s primary interest. All afternoon he’d puzzled over the odd headgear the raiders wore. Now through the narrow lens, he realized their helmets were actually some sort of feathery, furry hats shaped like lizards. Most were green, but there was a smattering of other colors that apparently denoted rank. Then, as he focused on the strange helmet on the man’s head, its golden eyes blinked.
© Dragon's Cauldron by Anny Cook 2013

School Days

Awwww. Summer's over. School's started in most places. The rush is on. Schedules change. Homework and sports fill the afternoons.

Post-teens march off to college and university. It seems like the whole world is centered around school schedules. Football begins. Yes, fall is here!

When I talk to current-day students about school, their descriptions of school bear absolutely no resemblance to my own memories. Have I just forgotten the reality of it? Or is the experience that changed?

I recall a time when academic excellence was more important than the latest hairdo or celebrity. I wonder if my memories are correct?

anny

Alpheli Solution

In the rush of a new book release, every author looks forward to reviews and recommends from their readers and friends. Then things quiet down--and eventually pretty much fade away.

So it's always an unexpected thrill when a review is posted long after the book was released! A couple days ago, Fran Lee, Examiner columnist out of Utah, sent me an e-mail and link for her review of Alpheli Solution. I'm still smiling. I've linked to her review HERE.

And just in case you're wondering if it's something you'd be interested in reading, here's the blurb:



When Danamara Higgins is attacked by a vampire, her life turns upside down. Vampire Bootcamp class seems to be the answer to her prayers. In her wildest dreams, she doesn’t consider meeting not just one, but two hunky vampires who take her—in the car, in the shower, in the living room, in the hot tub, in hand—as they teach her everything she’ll need to know about her new vampire life.
For centuries, Pierre has loved and pursued Julian with no success. After a hostile takeover of Julian’s financial assets, Pierre is positive Julian will have nowhere else to turn. Julian, though, chooses to teach the Vampire Bootcamp class rather than surrender to Pierre on unequal terms. When one of Julian’s students approaches him for help identifying her sire, Julian is stunned that she is his alpheli—an extremely rare mate whose blood will allow him to subsist on realfood. What will that mean to his love-hate relationship with Pierre?
There are just one or two problems. Danamara is descended from Pierre’s bloodline. And she’s on someone’s hit list. Julian and Pierre find unexpected erotic rewards and eternal love when they join together in a brutal war to protect their alpheli’s life.
Want more? BUY IT HERE